


What a Lovely Time

by GemmaRose



Series: Kinktober 2020 [17]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Come Inflation, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Facials, Fucking Machines, Knotting, M/M, Power Imbalance, Self-cest, Spike Modifications (Transformers), Tentacles, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Breaking in a Prime is a slow process. Megatron is capable of patience, when the reward is great enough.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Series: Kinktober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947760
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	What a Lovely Time

Megatron prided himself on keeping his household in good order, and ensuring that the mechs who made it up were well-kept. Some of them were simple, Overlord and Tarn and his loyal Soundwave and Shockwave. Others, like Scorponok and the Starscreams, were more complex, needing a careful balance of encouragement and discipline. And then there was his favourite pair of mechs. Optimus Prime, and a darker, smaller mech with a purple Autobrand who claimed the same name. The other mechs in his household who shared names were either Starscream, or possessed of wildly different frametypes, and he’d pitted the Starscreams against each other to keep them from all focusing on assassinating him.

“Optimus.” he said as he opened the door, optics flicking from one to the other. “Both of you, with me.”

The normal Optimus growled his engine as he rose to his pedes, and Megatron kept his optics on the smaller one until he rose as well, radiating malice. “Come to slake your lust again?” he asked acidly.

“After a fashion.” Megatron smirked. “Should I fetch a chain, or will you follow me without one?”

Purple Optimus snarled, but came to stand next to Normal Optimus. “I’m no _beast_.”

“No? You bite like one.” Megatron smirked. “Perhaps I should install a lock on your mask like I did on your panels.” he reached out and caressed the short Optimus’s face, pressing his thumb down firmly on the mech’s facemask. “Bring you in to fuel with me.”

“Just try it.” Small Optimus threatened, and Megatron allowed his smirk to widen. It would be more trouble than it was worth, but the prospect angered his little Prime, and that was the true goal.

“Follow me.” he ordered, and turned to lead the pair down the hall. Two pairs of pedesteps followed him, and he headed directly towards the punishment room. Nobody was strapped onto the fragging machine currently, but the door didn’t close anymore and they were near the central common areas of the manor. It was unlikely they wouldn’t gain an audience.

“You, on your knees by the bench.” he pointed at Optimus, who radiated resentment but went where he was directed and folded to the floor without complaint. “You’re going to service your little double.” he announced, clapping a hand on the smaller Optimus’s shoulder and steering him towards the bench. “Satisfy me, and there’s a reward in it for both of you.”

“Satisfy you, by servicing _him_?” Optimus scowled behind his mask.

“That’s sick.” Purple Optimus announced. “And I used to drop mechs in a smelter for kicks.”

“Noted.” Megatron seated himself on the other end of the bench and made himself comfortable, setting one pede up on the bench and retracting his panels to let his spike pressurise. “Go on.” he gestured for the smaller Prime to take a seat in front of Optimus.

“Shouldn’t you let me open my panels?” Purple Optimus asked, and Megatron leered at him.

“I’ll unlock your panels when I see fit. Now, take a seat, before I grow bored.”

That threat was enough to get Purple Optimus to comply, and Optimus shot Megatron one last glare before snapping his mask back and leaning in to lick at Purple Optimus’s panels. His engine settled at a low rumbling idle, and Megatron kept his optics on Purple Optimus as he slowly worked his hand over his spike. “You have hands, Optimus.” he reminded the smaller Prime, and purred at the pulse of conflicting feelings which came from the purple mech as dark fingers wrapped around Optimus’s’ finials.

The smaller Prime was far too willful, too willing to talk back, and direct punishments of all stripes had proven ineffective. Megatron liked his Prime with a bit of fire, but there was a line to be drawn, and perhaps this would teach Purple Optimus when to hold his glossa.

Optimus moaned as he sealed his lips around the lower half of his doppelganger’s panel, and Purple Optimus grunted as his hips rocked into the sensation. “That’s it.” Megatron purred, rubbing his thumb over the tip of his spike to collect the bead of pre-fluid gathered there. “Let him service you, Optimus.”

Sharp golden optics met his, then flickered dimmer as Optimus did something with his glossa that wrenched another moan from Purple Optimus’s vocaliser. Megatron sent the code to release the lock on his panel, and the splash of lubricant on the edge of the bench and the floor beneath was almost as gratifying as the _embarrassment lust fury_ that filled Purple Optimus’s field in equal measure. Only equal for a moment though, because the better-trained Optimus leaned in and plunged his glossa into the smaller Prime’s valve as soon as he’d recovered from the splash of lubricant in his face. Purple Optimus’s field went molten with need, and his hands on Optimus’s finials tightened, as if he meant to guide Optimus in pleasuring him. That wouldn’t do.

“Optimus, hands off.” he ordered, and Normal Optimus pulled away from his task to glower at Megatron.

“Make up your mind, Megatron.” he snapped.

“Impatient, are we?” Megatron teased as Purple Optimus dragged his hands up Optimus’s finials, one last stroke before releasing them both. “If you want more, you have to earn it, Prime.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.” Megatron smirked, watching as both Primes’ optics tracked his hand down the length of his spike, their vents ratcheting higher as he traced a claw around his own anterior node. “Now go on, back to it.” he inclined his helm at the pair of them. “And Optimus?” golden optics met his. “I want you to watch.”

Purple Optimus’s field flared with outright humiliation, undercut by potent rage, and Megatron hummed in satisfaction as he watched Optimus get back to work. While the pair of Primes hated each other nearly as much as they hated him, there was nothing on Unicron that Purple Optimus hated so much as being debased, and that extended to his double. Optimus disliked his double on principle, and Megatron knew for a fact that he preferred large spikes, up to and including those which bordered on obscenely oversized. To be made to give valve oral while Purple Optimus’s spike was locked safely in its housing by Megatron’s refusal to release it was impossibly frustrating, and it showed in his aggressiveness.

He continued to stroke himself, watching the pair of Primes go at it as various other members of their household passed by the doorway, glancing in and occasionally shouting some lewd encouragement. None loitered though, Megatron made sure of that. This was for his benefit, first and foremost. Disciplining Purple Optimus was a bonus, really.

“That’s enough.” he said at length, pulling up the command HUD for the nearest machine. “Prime, you are not to touch yourself. Optimus, come here.” he patted his thigh, and Purple Optimus was for once eager to obey, valve dripping on Megatron’s sleek black plating. Perhaps he would get Soundwave to clean him later, his ever-loyal Third would enjoy the privilege. He rested a hand on the small of Purple Optimus’s back, and activated the fragging machine behind Optimus’s back, commanding the tentacles within to unspool and seek out the nearest valve.

Purple Optimus seemed most of the way towards overload when Megatron forced him to still, shifting to hold his railgun between his legs, the weapon powered up and humming with energy. “You’re going to ride this.” he commanded, gesturing to his gun. Purple Optimus gave it a wary look, then his helm snapped around at the strangled noise Optimus made when the tentacles found him and speared unerringly into his valve. More lubricant puddled hot on Megatron’s thigh, and he gripped Purple Optimus by the waist, picking him up to seat astride the barrel of his railgun facing his double.

“I know you’re enjoying the view.” he purred, lowering his voice so Optimus wouldn’t be able to make out the words. “I can feel you lubricating.” Purple Optimus made a choked noise that might’ve been an almost-whimper, and Megatron chuckled, urging the mech’s hips to rock against the top of his weapon, sensitive mesh perilously close to a truly devastating amount of electromagnetic power. “Do you wish that was you?” he asked rhetorically, dropping his hand to work his own spike again, optics sliding between Purple Optimus trembling atop his railgun to Optimus writhing as the tentacles had their way with him, all four trying to ram into his valve at once without the slightest bit of prep.

It probably hurt. It would _definitely_ leave him nice and loose for Megatron to frag personally, later.

“You act all composed, but you’re no better than the lowest wildmech.” Megatron murmured, fingers tightening just slightly around his spike as his lips brushed Purple Optimus’s audial. “You want to be used, to be _ruined_. You **crave** it.” he shifted his arm, leaning back so he could rock the tip of his spike against Purple Optimus’s aft. “I can give that to you, Optimus.”

“I don’t.” Purple Optimus denied, but his field raged with lust as Megatron’s transfluid smeared against his hip and aft.

“Is that so?” Megatron mused. “Then I suppose you would just hate it if I made the two of you swap places.” he inclined his helm towards Optimus, whose vocaliser had given out and was now writhing in silent ecstasy as all four tentacles ravaged his valve. “Set those tentacles on you, instruct them to hold you down and overload all over your pretty purple plating. Get their fluids in the cracks of your windshield.” he traced his own damp, sticky fingers over the fractures in Purple Optimus’s golden transparasteel chestplate. The mech’s engine revved _hard_ , and Megatron killed the power to his railgun, revelling in the distressed noise which left Purple Optimus’s vocaliser at the sudden loss of stimulation.

“But, this is supposed to be a reward, not a punishment.” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as he could manage. “So I’ll not be doing that.”

Purple Optimus’s field raged against his, anger tangling with humiliation and near-caustic Want. Megatron shook his arm, dislodging the little Prime, and withdrew a trio of cubes from his subspace. “One for each of us.” he said, setting them down on a clean bit of bench. “You may pick which of us drinks which cube.”

“What do they do?” Purple Optimus asked, his voice shaking almost as badly as his legs as he tried to rise to his pedes.

“Oh, various things.” Megatron smiled, stroking the back of his hand down Purple Optimus’s cheek. “Nothing which should need to be remedied later.”

Purple Optimus considered the cubes for a moment, then pushed the brightest pink fuel towards Megatron and grabbed the largest cube with the most shimmery energon in both hands. Megatron set his fuel aside, and rose to restrain Optimus. “Be still, Prime.” he growled his engine the way Optimus liked, and was rewarded with a desperate flare of Optimus’s field. His pressure on the mech’s shoulders held him still enough for Purple Optimus to bring the cube to his lips, and Optimus drank it down greedily, his plating heating under Megatron’s hands as fresh energy hit his lines.

“A good choice.” he nodded to Purple Optimus. “Now he’ll have plenty of energy for me to wring from him _personally_ , once I’m done with you.” he pressed Optimus down further onto the tentacles as the mech’s armour thickened, and decided not to punish him for clawing at his still-covered spike. It was swelling in its housing, no doubt, his frame attempting to force an overload from equipment still locked in its inactive state.

“Now for yours.” Megatron leered, guiding Purple Optimus back to the bench, where the mech looked between their cubes suspiciously. Megatron reached for his fuel, and found it snatched away just before he could touch it. Purple Optimus drank quickly, almost desperately, and Megatron lifted the remaining cube with a chuckle. If his guess was right, the mech had just consumed exactly what Megatron wanted him to. He threw back his fuel in two gulps, tossed the empty cube aside, and let his cooling fans kick up to maximum as his spike throbbed hotly.

Purple Optimus was making all sorts of aborted noises, trying not to let on how much he was affected by the synth-blend he’d just downed. The swelling of his valve was unmistakable though, anterior node protruding so far Megatron wondered if the mech would be forced to the brink of overload just by having his panels sealed. The mesh rim, too, looked plumper than before, and far wetter. All the mechs of his household were capable of taking his spike without preparation without suffering any lasting damage, but Megatron suspected Purple Optimus may now be able to take him unprepared without even a pinch of discomfort.

His thoughts were wrenched back to his own frame by the prickle of a synth-blend-induced transformation, and he looked down to watch as the shaft of his spike thickened appreciably, the tip looking narrower by comparison. Then the prickle moved down his length, into his spike housing, and Megatron let out a low moan as pressure built in his array. His spike throbbed almost painfully, pressure building and building until suddenly it leapt forward by nearly a hand span, relieving the pressure in its housing as a thick knot emerged. Only sheer willpower kept him from overloading on the spot as the prickles faded out, and he gave his newly modified spike an appreciative stroke before lifting his optics to Purple Optimus.

“Come here.” he commanded, his face falling to a glower when Purple Optimus didn’t move to obey. The mech was rubbing at his middle, field broadcasting discomfort strong enough Megatron could nearly taste it, a bitter undercurrent to the heady lust which saturated the room. “Is something wrong?” he asked, trying to recall if he’d had any of Shockwave’s more experimental blends in his subspace which might have affected Purple Optimus’s internals.

“N- Nothing.” Purple Optimus’s vocaliser stuttered, and Megatron sat back once more.

“Then you should have no problem coming and seating yourself on my spike.” he said, giving it another leisurely stroke. Perhaps it was especially good that Purple Optimus had taken the blend he did. Now his valve should be spacious enough to take even Megatron’s enhanced spike without damage.

Purple Optimus lowered his hands from his midsection, and Megatron’s engine revved in appreciation before he consciously registered the change. Purple Optimus’s plating was bowed out, ever so slightly, just above his hips. It wasn’t an experimental blend, it was the dregs mix. This cube, evidently, had been valve enhancement and carrier’s delight. Yes. Yes, he could work with this. He let Purple Optimus shuffle closer, keeping his optics on the swelling bulge of his partner’s overstuffed transfluid tanks, and considered how best to make use of them.

“Sit on my spike.” he ordered when Purple Optimus came to a halt between his thighs. “Your back to my chest. I want you to watch Prime.”

Purple Optimus moved gingerly, bracing one of his dark hands on Megatron’s knee and cradling his surely aching middle with the other. There was an audible ping as his abdominal plating popped out even further, and Megatron purred at the helpless whimper it drew from the little Prime. It would do the mech good to remember this, that his frame was Megatron’s to alter as he saw fit, his pleasure second to his master’s. Perhaps next time he misbehaved, another cube of carrier’s delight and a vibrator up his valve would be just as effective as sticking him on the fragging machine and encouraging the others in the household to come watch and pleasure themselves to the sight.

Purple Optimus’s valve was perfectly snug around Megatron’s spike, slick enough to let him in easily but not so loose as to lack for stimulation. Purple Optimus stopped at the top of his know though, and Megatron growled his engine as he wrapped one hand around the mech’s hip. One good tug had him fully impaled, rim nice and tight around the sensitive protometal of his knot, and Megatron began lazily fragging up into him, pulling up the command HUD and lowering the intensity of the tentacles to match.

“Don’t worry, Prime.” he purred, sliding down the bench until he sat where Purple Optimus had been earlier, letting the cooled lubricant smear over his aft plating. “You get a front row seat.” and he would be making use of the mech’s pretty mouth after he had his fill of the smaller Prime, but Optimus didn’t need to know that. He gripped Purple Optimus by both hips, and after a few more leisurely rolls of his hips thrust up into him with all his might. Purple Optimus spasmed, valve locking down vice-tight around his spike, and Megatron unlocked the mech’s spike cover.

The unit which extended was, he was certain, smaller than it had been before, but the volume of transfluid which spurted from the ridged tip was far greater. Megatron thrust up sharply into Purple Optimus again, and this time pressed down on his buckled plating at the same time, tearing a sweet wail from the mech’s vocaliser. “That’s it.” he murmured, his own fans ratcheting up higher with every moment he delayed his own overload. “Keep your optics online, Optimus. Look how you’re drenching Prime.”

Purple Optimus moaned, shame curling through his field even as he moaned wantonly, frame falling limp against Megatron’s chassis. Another sharp thrust and Megatron tipped over the edge as well, fumbling for the command to unseal Purple Optimus’s inner valve port as the surge of charge through his frame made the knot at the base of his spike swell, locking every last drop of his considerable load inside the mech’s frame. Purple Optimus _shrieked_ , frame going from lax to hypertensioned in an instant, his field broadcasting loud and clear how overwhelmed he was. Megatron revved his powerful engines and snapped his hips up, jarring the mech on his spike.

“You will take what I give you.” he snarled, gripping Purple Optimus’s hips tight enough to dent as the space cleared by his depleted transfluid tanks was filled by his expanding forge. “And you will _enjoy it_.” he punctuated his order with a deep grind, and Purple Optimus spat static and shrill binary before slumping unconscious in his arms. Damn, fragging an Optimus who couldn’t fight back was hardly any fun. Then again... he met Optimus’s optics, and smirked at the rage in them, the transfluid-soaked Prime trembling with the effort of holding onto his anger. Megatron let out a low moan as his frame pulsed more transfluid into Purple Optimus’s forge, and Optimus trembled where he knelt, fingers scraping blue streaks across his shiny white thighs.

“You wish you were in his place, don’t you?” Megatron teased, spreading his legs and tilting Purple Optimus back against his chest to show off how his thick, wet valve rim was stretched so thin around his knot. “Come now, Prime, speak honestly.”

Optimus opened his mouth, and shuddered as transfluid dripped into it, his glossa automatically flicking out to lick his lips clean. “I don’t envy him in the slightest.” he lied. Megatron pulled up the command HUD again and made the tentacles fall still.

“I asked for _honesty_ , Prime.” he chided, keeping his tone light. Optimus did so hate feeling looked down on. “You forget, I _know_ you. Every kink, every filthy fantasy, every last perversion. You crave my attention, Prime. Only I can satisfy you.” he leaned forward, holding Purple Optimus in place with his left arm and bringing the right up to caress Optimus’s cheek.

“Lies.” Optimus spat.

“You crave ruination, Prime.” he said, changing the tentacles’ orders from fragging to restraint. “And for your disobedience, you won’t be getting it tonight.”

Optimus made to stand, but after having his valve pummeled by four tentacles for- however long it had been- his knee servos were mostly offline, and the tentacles were able to drag him back down with ease. Optimus, for all his backtalk, was at least intelligent enough not to struggle against them, lest Megatron turn on the current which could be directed through them. Perhaps leaving Optimus bound and wanting was for the best, really. Megatron doubted this knot would be deflating any time soon, and by the time he was able to uncouple from Purple Optimus it was doubtful he’d have any transfluid left.

“You wait right here, Prime.” he instructed Optimus with a smug smirk. “I’ll be back to release you once Optimus is off of my spike.” and in the meantime, the rest of his household would be allowed to enjoy the striking view of a once-mighty Prime brought so low.

Yes, this session had worked out quite nicely indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to any not-logged-in readers, but due to an ex who refuses to leave me alone I have had to disable anon comments. Kudos are still open though, and if you want to scream (or would like me to write a fic for you) come check me out on Pillowfort! No account required to get my discord, and I'm always happy to chat. [[Link](https://www.pillowfort.social/GemmaRose)]


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